


Come Again

by Slashy Goodness (allmadhere)



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmadhere/pseuds/Slashy%20Goodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Or at least Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Again

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for anon_lovefest on LJ.

Patrick takes the job out of desperation. He has to take it or they won't make rent for the month. If they don't make rent, it means he, Pete, and Joe all have to move home again and that is just so not on. They need to work on the band without someone's parents asking if it isn't getting a little late and don't Andrew and Peter need to get to class in the morning? So he takes the job and sucks it up.

The first thing he discovers after orientation is that he hates it. Completely utterly hates it. It's not just being surrounded by meat and having to work with it. And it's not learning all the disgusting secrets of the fast food nation. Those help but they aren't the main cause of his grief. Because that would be easy.

Patrick sighs as he shoves yet another large fry into an already stuffed bag. Brendon grins and takes the bag from him, happily taking another order as he delivers. Patrick doesn't miss the suddenly sly on his smirking face as he hands off the headset and announces he's going on break. Patrick just narrows his eyes and plots way he can out his crush on the guy who has the shift after, Spencer. Patrick notices these things; he's observant, okay?

He jams the headset on over his regulation hat before stomping over to the computer. "Welcome to McDonald's, can I take you order?" he sighs. He can already guess what the orders going to be because he knows who it is. They aren't subtle in the least.

"Mmmm, medium chocolate milkshake in a large cup, medium Reese's McFurry, twenty chicken nuggets, large fries, and your sweet sweet loving, Pattycakes." Patrick rolled his eyes. Bane of his whole damned existence.

"Medium chocolate shake, medium Reese's McFlurry, twenty nuggets, large fry, and an apple pie," he rattles off as he punches in the order. "Will that be all? The total is $17.56. Please drive up to the next window." He doesn't even give Pete time for a witty retort and he can here the distant honking and grumblings that force him to hurry along. Patrick gets most of the order together quickly but has to wait for Pete's drinks. Him and his stupid milkshake and McFlurry every damned time...

"Here you go," Gabe says with a flourish as he plunks down the finished shake with its McFlurry partner. "Try not to be so much of a tease this time?"

"What are you even talking about, Saporta?" Patrick's genuinely curious. He does not tease, not in the least. Gabe just sighs and gives him a gentle push towards the drive-through window. He could see a hint of Pete's shitty car already.

"That'll be $17.56," Patrick monotones and sticks his hand out to receive Pete's money. Nothing comes and he sighs. Pete would make this hard.

"That took more than ninety seconds, Lunchbox. That means I get a kiss, doesn't it?" Pete waggles his eyebrows as he half-hangs out the driver window. He flashes that shit-eating grin of his and Patrick rolls his eyes. He is not taken in by that charming motherfucker in the least.

"That's only with breakfast, which ended two hours ago, and you do not get a kiss. You get your food free. Try again, Wentz."

Pete laughs. "Okay, okay, you got me." He hands over a twenty with no more arguments or flirting. Patrick manages to get all the way through counting out his change before he says something else.

"Does your milkshake bring all the boys to the yard, Rick?" He smirks lopsidedly and Patrick has to hold back the urge to throw the coins in his hand at Pete's emo-fringed head. "Or is it just me?"

"No," Patrick deadpans, "but Gabe's certainly does." Pete just blinks at him as Patrick gives his most plastic smile and hands over the change. It's maybe a little more satisfying than throwing things. Pete takes it with no pomp, circumstance, or grandiose declarations of love. Patrick falters just a moment. "Pete, why do you send so much time and money here? I mean, you're just as strapped for cash as me and Joe but you spend at least $15 every time you come. And you come at least three times a week. That's not normal, Pete. Or healthy." Patrick thinks of the unspeakable horrors that occur in the kitchen and shudders.

Pete smiles, a real genuine smile and not a grin or smirk or anything else. "I keep coming because of you. You're working all these weird hours and I hardly ever see you anymore." Maybe, just maybe, Patrick was wrong about Pete not having a single romantic bone in his body if it wasn't almost guaranteed to end in sex. A look flutters across Pete's face quickly before he grins. "Hey... Warm it up for me?"

Patrick huffs out a breath, annoyed, and flips beat off just as the chorus of honks start up. They both pull back inside their windows with tiny little happy smiles. Patrick turns around to find his manager, Suarez, watching him with an unreadable look on his face. Suarez crooks a finger and gestures toward his office. Patrick start trying to remember who's hiring now, because he's certainly just lost his job.

"Patrick," he begins once they're settled, "you haven't been here very long, have you?" Patrick closes his eyes and shakes his head, hoping his manager makes it quick so he can burst into tears in the bathroom. They might manage to squeak by with what he'd get on this paycheck but-- "And yet, you're one of the hardest working people back there. You're efficient, congenial, diligent... You're pretty much the perfect employee and I think it's time we start treating you like you are." Patrick opens his eyes and stares. "Today's a pretty slow day. Why don't you go home and relax? Work on that band you keep talking to Brendon about." Suarez smiles and Patrick could barely breathe. He wasn't getting fired. He stood and smiled like an idiot and unable to even say thank you. "Go get some meat between those buns, Stump, you need it," he mutters with a sly smirk.

"Umm, what was that, sir?" The happy look slide off his face in an instant. He's pretty sure his boss just insinuated that he should go home and have gay sex with his roommate and bassist and that just does not actually happen.

"What? Huhn?" The man easily pulls on an innocent and confused smile. "You've obviously been working too hard, Patrick. I'll even clock you out." Patrick smiles again, even if it falters a little uncertainly, and walks out and into the back room for his coat.

It could be worse, he supposes. He could have been fired and had to take the job at Taco Bell...


End file.
